


The Football Drabble

by SlaydoreDelaska



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Behind the bleachers kisses, Jock!Mickey, M/M, Nerd!Ian, Romance, but not really tho?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaydoreDelaska/pseuds/SlaydoreDelaska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gallavich High School AU Drabble thing based loosely off the song "The Football Song" by Matt Fishel (I’d heavily advise listening to it all the way through before reading this tbh. And check out some of his other stuff too! The dude’s so talented)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Football Drabble

The shrill shriek of the whistle in the crisp morning air cut through Ian’s tired, foggy head like a butcher knife.

"Alright guys, all in!"

It was an overcast, drizzly, and frankly quite miserable Saturday morning, and rather than being deeply enveloped in the lush warmth of the cocoon of blankets he usually was on mornings such as this one, Ian Gallagher was standing in the middle of a slightly flooded, muddy football field. In full, bright yellow and red school kit. Awaiting further instructions on how exactly to slam his body into someone else’s to tactfully retrieve an ovular object from their possession, or something of the like. He groaned inwardly at the prospect of beginning practice.

 

Ian had never been a football person. In high school, you had to be a specific ‘type’ to be permitted to openly enjoy football; a system Ian liked to refer to as the “three S’s” - Straight, Sexist, and seriously considering doing Steroids. And he happened to be none of those things. Oh the disappointment, but he was sure he’s get over it.

Ian enjoyed running to keep fit and clear his head after stressful days, the general day-to-day workout he got chasing after his siblings, and balancing a part-time job on top of all that. With the amount of shit they ended up getting themselves into, it was no surprise that Ian had not been happy when he found out he’d been “heavily recommended” (I.e. basically forced and coerced) to join football by his gym coach with the bait of extra credit, as they were currently short on ‘useable’ players.

"Okay, so in the run up to pre-season, I was thinking-" Ian heard the voice faintly as he trudged his way half-heartedly across the field to join the huddle of boys near the centre, the very obvious leader standing away from the rough (sweaty) semi-circle, addressing them. What he lacked in height/stature, the guy sure made up for in terms of commanding presence. "Any reason why you couldn’t fuckin’ move yourself here at the same rate of time as the rest of us, Gallagher?"

"Sounds a lot like trying to get you to cum before my family get home" Ian’s clearly tormented mind begged for him to retort. Come to think of it, there was a lot he could reveal about their gallant, glorious leader Mickey Milkovich. Like how he is the biggest fucking clingy cuddler after sex; like how he makes the most amazing buttery banana pancakes the morning after one of their ‘friendly sleepovers’; like how he admitted to having a ‘thing’ for redheaded guys and how much he crushed on Ian before they’d actually spoken. But for both their own individual sakes and their relationship’s, he resisted. But only just.

That’s right, laugh all you want. Ian and Mickey were living out High School soppy, cheesy cliche número uno. Popular, all-star football jock accidentally slips and falls in love with a less popular, studious kid who’d madly fancied him since Freshman year. And to add to that, clearly, said unpopular kid happened to be another guy. And the only out gay guy at the school. Ian made sure to shift around some shoeboxes, as after jumping straight out of his own closet, he’d nearly immediately joined Mickey in his own.

"Just like taking my time. Admittedly similar to you in regards to passing the ball. Nobody likes a showboat"

Their surrounding teammates hollered obnoxiously in response to the burn, and a flush of overwhelming annoyance crossed Mickey’s face, before properly catching Ian’s challenging stare and cheeky smirk. The shorter boy’s face didn’t soften, but it was suddenly calmer and no longer looked like he was about to snap at anyone. Ian could tell he’d twigged and was playing along nicely.

"I’ve had just about fucking enough backchat out of you, Gallagher. You’re a smart-allec, just like that asshole of a big brother of yours…"

"Oh?"

“Yeah. Take laps guys, while I deal with this fucker who thinks he’s too good to be here…”

With that, Mickey took off walking towards the bleachers, and Ian subsequently followed, trying to maintain a facial expression of “mildly intimidated and frightened”, even though the both of them knew the truth of the situation. This always happened, normally either directly before or after practice either before everyone got there or after everyone else had left, as Mickey had always hyper-cautious of being caught. But apparently he’d picked up Ian’s signals out on the field and was just as unwilling to wait as the other boy.

"Woo! Go Mickey!" A lacklustre, slightly prepubescent-sounding set of voices called out.

The subject of such heartfelt words simply rolled his eyes as usual and flipped them an eye contact-less wave, coupled with an awkward nod in their direction. See, a gaggle of around four to sometimes six sophomore girls had taken a keen and specific interest in Mickey at some point during the year, and had made it a point to turn up to all of his games and practices. He appeased them the first couple of times they’d showed up, by the advice of his “fellow popular bros” (I.e. douchebags whom Mickey himself had even admitted to disliking when him and Ian were alone together), but by the fifth or sixth time he’d had enough and lost his temper, very bluntly telling them to “take a fucking hike”.

"Can’t fault them on perseverance" Ian quipped as he ducked and dived under metal pillars to eventually end up in a small, confined space behind the bleachers that wasn’t too far away from the field for the other guys to get suspicious, but kept the two of them completely out of sight.

Having ignored the previous comment in favour of ignoring their existence altogether, Mickey turned around to face Ian.

"What have I told you about giving me that look during practice?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about…"

Oh great. Ian was playing coy; it drove Mickey completely mad. In every sense of the term.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about, asshole" the shorter boy said, though not being able to help the small smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he playfully pushed Ian’s shoulder.

"What, are you gonna make me stop?”

"Yeah, yeah I will"

"Well come over here and make me then, Captain”

"You fuckin’ sure about that?"

"Hundred percent"

That was when Mickey strode forward and got all up in Ian’s face with an air of forced intimidation that he could clearly see right through. His eyes were soft though, not menacing in their gaze as there usually was if he was being serious. The both of them knew this routine like it was second nature.

In one fluid motion, the two of them closed the gap between their faces and captured each other’s lips in a passionate kiss. If you were to look up the term “lip lock” in the dictionary, their names would take pride of place in the ‘example’ section. It truly felt as comfortable as a key fitting into a lock, like the two of them slotted together so easily. Through the making out, Mickey’s hand found its way to Ian’s cheek and cupped it, the rough, calloused skin a direct contrast to the soft, cold but red-flushed skin of his boyfriend’s face in the chilly November morning air. His other arm slipped loosely around Ian’s waist to draw the other boy closer, wishing to feel his body heat in conjunction with his own. One of Ian’s arms wrapped under Mickey’s to rest his hand on the small of his back, while the other hand slipped up the front of his shirt, causing a slight groan to escape the other boy’s lips. Mickey had always found Gallagher to be relatively and surprisingly forward for a not-very-popular guy. There was a natural confidence there that never really strayed into cockiness which he fucking loved.

It almost felt scary how natural the whole ritual felt. So scary in fact, that after a couple of minutes Mickey jolted away, suddenly all-too-aware of what he was doing, as if he’d been set on some sort of timer for how long he’d lose himself and let himself indulge.

"C’mon, just a another minute? Please?" Ian pouted through slightly swollen lips (later to be passed off as a punishment dig to the face).

"N-Nah. No. We’ve been gone too long already. You know what they’re like - they probably already know something’s going on, and-"

"Calm down, Mick. It’s fine. I promise. Just say I wouldn’t shut the fuck up, or kept answering back or something, so you had to beat me up more…"

"What, without leavin’ a mark on you? Like they’re gonna believe that"

Judging by the sharp rise in pitch of his voice, the jerking left and right to check for others coming and the other blazingly obvious signs, Ian could tell that Mickey was beginning to lose it. He stepped closer to his boyfriend and laid a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. He then looked him right in the eyes and then made sure to speak in a low, calm tone.

"Look, if you don’t get your shit together, then they’re gonna know something’s up. Take deep breaths, or something. That’s what they say in the movies”

Mickey nodded shakily and took a moment to gather himself, before he slipped out of Ian’s grasp and strode ahead to make his way back to the field, the other boy just on his tails. Walking back out onto the field, Mickey transformed into a completely different person than what Ian had just had to help gather together. The Captain’s confidence (or cockiness) skyrocketed and he strode on to the background track of cheering sophomores like he fucking owned the joint.

Ian made sure to hunch over a little to give the illusion that he’d been beaten up.

"And that right there is what you get if you disrespect me; clear!? Good" Mickey exclaimed with a smirk, only noticeably fake to Ian’s eye.

It was okay for him to have his moment here and now. Ian would get plenty more all to himself later on.

♫"But he wears a smile of a different kind when he comes to stay over at my place…"♫

**Author's Note:**

> A/N; I know I’ve never written for this tag/pairing before and that may put you off reading, but I adore the show, adore Gallavich, and all I can ask is that you give it a chance and leave some constructive criticism if you have any? The only way to go is up! :)


End file.
